Northern Downpour
by Summersetlights
Summary: When Clare Edwards shows up at Eli's door, she's not there to patch things up. With her ripped clothing, Eli begins to realize that the reason why she's there is more morbid than he wants to believe.


**_Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi._**

**_Um. So this is a bit dark. So, yeah. Some of you might like it, some of you might not._**

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><p><em><strong>I.<strong>_

She's mumbling something of a different language, probably one that she was making up as she goes along. Her lips are tight and rigid and every once in a while, a gasp slips out and she ignores it, proceeding to tell her story. Her long eyelashes bat like feathers and her hair is tangled, every strand sticking up and frizzing. Eli looks at the right side of her hair and is distracted by the twig wrapped around one of the strands. Ignoring what she was saying at the moment, he reaches over to her and plucks the stick out. Some leaves are still stuck in her auburn locks.

"Clare," Eli starts, holding the stick in his hand lightly, "Why do you have a branch in your hair?"

Clare stutters and looks at the twig as if it was a foreign object. She touches the part of her hair that he had pulled it out of and her eyebrows furrow, as if she was just realizing that he had taken it out.

"I don't know. He just. Maybe he put in there. Maybe when I was on the ground. I don't know," She looks down at the ground, confusion and pain becoming apparent on her teary face, "I didn't know what to do, Eli. He was too strong. Too strong. Always too strong." She closes her eyes tightly, her lips quivering and shaking. Her hands are moving and it's almost like she can't control her movements.

Eli watches. His body is slack with disbelief and his heart is heavy with bricks and boulders. And he watches as her body slowly slumps, as if it is being pulled by a magnet. He feels his breathing become shallow as he began to truly understand what had happened. His blood runs cold as he glances down her body. His eyes study the ripped clothing and the blood oozing from her leg.

"I'm sorry. But no one was home," Clare whispers, as Eli's eyes are fixed on the blood, "No one was home. No one. They don't know. They never know." Her already quiet voice has dropped down to a whisper and she takes in an earth shattering breath.

"Clare." And that was all he can say before the girl falls into his arms. Her body is shaking and cracking and splintering. He can feel her soul being ripped apart as everything sinks in. He can hear the little gasps coming out of her pink, innocent lips. The little sighs. The little, "He was too strong." that flies hoarsly out of her mouth.

And he brings her in, her feet dragging and her body coughing. He brings her onto the couch gently sets her down. She looks dead. The sparkle is gone.

Elijah Goldsworthy wishes with all his heart that he can get the sparkle back.

_**II.**_

Lights snores are coming from her. She's tucked deep into the corner of the couch. Her arms are wrapped securely around herself and her face twitches every now and then. Her body flinches in a way that will scar Eli forever and he knows it. The way her fists are clenched so tightly that her knuckles are white. The way her body isn't relaxed and calm. It's haunting and Eli just wants to sleep. He just wants to forget the way she's croaking that she's too weak. He just wants to forget the way she screams harshly with a bitter resentment not meant for him.

He had tried several times to try to ask her about what happened. But Clare had just asked if they could turn on the tv. He had brought a band-aid out from the kitchen and asked if he could put it on her. But the closer he got, the more that Clare had become distant. She had shrunk against his touch. Eli tried not to take it personally, but he couldn't help but feel his body shake with the rejection.

And now, he sat on the other far corner of the couch. He tries to pay attention to the info commercials, but his eyes always find Clare. And he looks at the way her mouth is open slightly and how the once brilliant auburn curls almost seem burned out.

Elijah Goldsworthy finds himself wanting nothing more than to wrap her tightly in his arms. To show her that she was safe. To show her that he would always continue to love her.

And that, with all his heart, he wishes that she hadn't been raped. But Elijah Goldsworthy knows that he can wish all he wants, but it won't change anything. And with that bitter realization, he bows his head and cries. He cries for the girl that was now lost. He cries for the girl that can't be touched. He cries for the anger that he feels towards the person that did this.

And he cries because he wants, more than anything, to take Clare's place. He wants to rid her of the evil that she'll have to live with.

He just wants her to shine again.

**_III_**.

She croaks for water and he has never moved so fast to get something. It was almost as if he was afraid that if he didn't move fast enough, she'd be gone. She'd become part of the wall. She'd disapear into thin air.

The glass of water shakes in her hand as he gives it to her. Clare immediately pours it down her throat. Droplets of water dribble down her chin and snakes its way down the front of her dirty shirt. Eli bites his lip and tries not to make her uncomfortable by staring. So, he gets up and runs upstairs to find clean clothes that she can wear. When he races back down the stairs, a pair of old shorts and a baggy shirt are in his hand.

"Would you like to change?" He whispers this, and he doesn't really know why. It seems fitting for the situation.

Clare looks at him, looking at him as if he's speaking chinese. Her normally bright and lovely face is dull and blank. Nothing is phasing her and Eli starts to feel scared. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to say and how to act and how-

"Sure." Her voice comes out rusty and Eli almost weeps with relief. He waits awkwardly for her to get up, but when she doesn't, he clears his throat and shifts on his feet.

"Do you need help getting up?" Eli asks quietly, his voice sounds loud in the silent room. Only the soft hum of the electronics are heard.

"Please."

Eli tries to smile, but it comes out forced and almost scary. He's scared that he'll touch her wrong. He's scared that she'll break with a simple touch. His fears begin to suffocate him as he comes closer to the broken girl. He wraps his hand around hers like she's made of glass and he slowly pulls her up.

Their eyes connect and a hint of a smile pops up on Eli's plump lips. Barely, just barely, he can see a sliver of Clare Edwards. He can see the girl that would dance without any music playing and he can see the girl that doesn't know the true definition of evil. She's there. He can see her. But she's hidden. She's hidden behind a cruel hatred that is mean and painful. She's hidden by the darkness that is about to swallow her up. A darkness that shows no remorse.

"I. I-I think I need help getting changed," She whispers, grimacing at how the words sound. They had bubbled up from her throat. It made her sound like a wild animal, "I don't...just please?"

Eli nods weakly, unsure whether he should make the first move. But before he can even decide, Clare slowly and painfully pulls off her ripped shirt. The tattered fabric falls off easily. He watches as she shivers from being so exposed.

Slowly and carefully, Eli pulls the baggy radiohead t-shirt over her head and tries to ignore the way her body has gone still and stone-like. As the shirt falls in waves around her torso, she works on her button and zipper on her jeans. Clare slowly lets the her pants drop and Eli keeps his eyes steady on the ceiling and once he's sure that she had kicked the pants off, Eli leans the pants down and lets Clare use his shoulder as something to hold onto as she puts the pants on.

When she's fully dressed, she crashes down on the couch and sobs attack her throat. Raspy and bitter sobs are forcing their way out of every part of her sore body. He knows that she's weak and she doesn't want to be. He knows that she's tired and she hates it.

And he knows that when he hugs her with a strength that should be uncomfortable, and she leans in and lets herself be sucked into it, it might be okay.

They could get out of the dark world together.

They could escape the world that had fucked them all.

**_IV._**

"My mother used to be a photographer." She announces drowsily, trying to hide from the monster called sleep.

Eli turns to her, his expression light and amused. "Seriously?"

Clare nods and giggles like a school girl, which was something she did a lot when she talked about the happy past, "Yeah. She used to come home from work and take out her camera. And this camera wasn't the kind that people have now. It was bought in the 80's and it was one of those classic Nikons that people would die for. Anyway, so, she used to come home from work and snap picture after picture. She was more than my mom when she would take photos. She was...she was herself, I guess. There was something about her then that I can't seem to figure out. She was...free." Clare trailed off, her eyes becoming distant and her eyes becoming cloudy.

"Does she still take pictures?" Eli mutters and he regrets asking as her face darkens.

"Nope." Clare popped her lips on the 'p'.

"Why?"

"Because I broke her camera. I was angry one day and I broke it. I just threw it. I ruined her happiness." She picks the invisible lint off of her shirt and tries to hide the tears that are falling.

"You know the fight I told you about? With Julia?" He suddenly says, and waits until Clare shakes her head yes before talking again, "I yelled at her for stealing my socks."

Clare's head snaps up, shock apparent on her face. "What?"

Eli closes his eyes and shakes his head in deep regret. "I couldn't find my socks. I had gym that day and I had no socks. And I just got angry. Everything had just exploded out of me and suddenly, it wasn't because of the socks. It was because I knew that she was slowly starting to hate me. It was because our relationship was falling apart and I couldn't do anything about it. So I yelled at her because she stole my socks. And that's the worst part. She died because I'm a selfish bastard. She died because I'm an ass. She died. She fucking died, Clare."

Silence spreads throughout the room and it's better that way because Eli doesn't want someone to tell him that he wasn't at fault. He will always live with the guilt. No matter what.

"I was walking to my house," Clare says after a few more moments of silence, "I had just met Alli at The Dot and I was walking back to my house. I was walking passed the pet shop that had closed a couple months ago and suddenly, someone grabbed me. I didn't know what to do. I told him to stop. I pleaded. I begged. I-I-I did just about everything. I did every-fucking-thing, Eli."

"I know." He says quietly, because he did know. Very well.

"And I'm worried. I'm worried that I'll always think of his face. I'm scared that his face will be the one I see when I meet someone new. I feel like I won't be Clare Edwards again. I feel like I'll just be an imposter. I feel like I'll wake up everyday and wonder, 'Who the fuck am I?'. I'm scared. I'm scared of everything, Eli." Her eyes are closed and her breath is shaky and her heartbeat is irregular.

"You are Clare Edwards. No matter what, you'll always be her."

"Thank you."

And with that, the broken girl smiles a smile that made Eli's heart thump and squirm.

And their eyes began to close and their breathing began to fade. The twisted nightmares that they had lived fades. At least for the moment.

Eli's eyes snaps back open and he glances at Clare. She has finally gone to sleep and she looks peaceful. A smile settles itself on Eli's lips and he sinks back down on the couch. But this time, he crawls closer to Clare and scoops her up in his arms. Almost immediately, she clings onto him. With a smile, Eli finally lets himself sleep.

Because he knows that when he wakes up, Clare Edwards will be in his arms.

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><p><strong><em>This is kinda random. I'm not sure if it even makes sense.<em>**

**_But, review? Please? ;)_**


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